


Control

by JoJo



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Early Work, Episode Related, Episode: s02e08 Nightmare, Gen, POV First Person, Present Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-28
Updated: 2012-10-28
Packaged: 2017-11-17 05:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/548182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoJo/pseuds/JoJo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch dares to challenge Starsky on the little matter of losing control...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> posted to BCL May 2006
> 
> part of my first person narrative phase (*sigh*), this one in Hutch's pov

A single look to the side, so slight as to be all but invisible, confirms what I already know to be true. Hands clamped to the steering wheel, a few little shifts of position, like he's sitting on pins. Thrashing up through the gears, eyes locked on the road. 

All these signs I know. 

The car is bouncing and swinging me around worse than usual, and I slide one hand lightly through the swing strap, clearing my throat. I need to let him know that I know. 

He looks into the rearview with a pained expression. My signal has got through. 

People think it must be such a breeze riding with Starsky, if not a complete privilege and a pleasure. You know... what you see is what you get... a cop who doesn't surprise easily... dependable in all manner of sticky situations... bravery hard-wired into his nervous system. And funny with it. Sometimes even inspired. The eat-anything, sleep-anywhere, always-got-a-smile-plastered-on-his-face goddamned perfect partner. 

It's not like they don't know about the temper. Those memorable losses of control. But they put it down to passion, and they're right -- up to a point. Sure, we all love it that he cares. 

But for God's sake... from Doodletown to Madison Square Garden in the blink of an eye. 

It was a struggle to stop him knocking out Sims right there on the floor of courtroom no. 3. And when the red mist is in front of his eyes, there's no calm, reasoning voice on earth that will get through to him, let alone me and the Cap trying to wrestle him to the floor. 

"You should have let me hit him!" he had seethed, when he'd finally shaken his way out of the griplock we had on him and Sims had scuttled his way out of the room. 

No apologies. No moment of remorse. He just let me know he was mad with me instead, for standing in his way. 

Starsky, in all his wisdom, should realise by now that I would have taken one in the teeth myself before letting him get so much as a fingertip on Sims. If we'd let that pile of knuckles connect... well, I'd already be well on the way to having to find a new partner. Starsky would have been up in front of a disciplinary committee before the ink was dry on Sims' complaint. Why does he think I let him nearly dislocate my shoulder trying to barrel through me? 

Passion. All well and good. But you sure better temper it with a bit of straight down the line joined-up thinking. Not to mention control. That at least I can thank my father for passing on. No-one's ever had to sit on _me_ to keep me from braining someone. 

People have no idea. No idea what it's like riding with my partner. 

And now he looks over. 

"What's the matter with _you_?" he demands. Trust Starsk to throw it back at me when he knows he doesn't have a leg to stand on. 

I'm already doing mental math. We don't have too long to sort this out. We need to round up Huggy and get our sights set on Loomis and Manning. 

"Be lucky if he doesn't file a complaint, Starsky," I say in a doom-laden tone. 

"Right." 

"I mean it." 

Another flick of his gaze into the rearview. It speaks volumes. He knows full well I have the upper hand in all this. He knows I'm right. 

"You heard what he said," he grumbles. 

"Oh yes, I heard. Think I liked it any better than you? D'you see me try and hit him?" 

"He deserved it." 

"Oh Starsk..." 

Another look over. "Couldn't help it, Hutch." 

"Don't give me that." 

"OK, I'm sorry." 

"Don't give me that either. C'mon, Starsk, you gotta learn a lesson, and learn it quick. Dobey and I saved you this time, but one day, Starsky... one day..." 

"One day what?" 

"You'll get through me. Or I won't be there. You'll lose it and Dobey will have your badge." 

A double flick to the rearview. "It's not that bad." 

"It is," I say. "I'm telling you. You're walking the line, buddy. It's been... what? Seven years and counting... you gotta learn some control." 

He shakes his head. "Nope, sorry, Hutch. I'd always want to hit him." 

Honesty. Another virtue of his that can sometimes seem a little overrated. 

"Think about it," I come back at him, "One Sims with a fat lip and you're out of here. Whatever the story is... Lisa... something else, something even worse, whatever it is... it's bad enough for a cop to throw a punch at a suspect, or even a perp... but an attorney... I know he's a miserable shit... but, Star, we're up to our necks in them. You can't hit 'em all." 

"Nope," he says again, and he's warming to his theme now, "Just him." 

"You'd lose your badge for Sims?" 

"C'mon, Hutch, I know I don't have mature and responsible written all over my personal references... it just happened." 

"You can learn control you know." 

"Yeah?" He swings us round a corner, still a little bit on the reckless side. "From a book?" 

I don't answer that one. Just hang on to the strap and suppose that this conversation is going to remain as unresolved as any of the others we've had on the same topic. This time, though, he decides to crank things up another level. 

"So... if Sims files a complaint... whatcha gonna say?" 

I actually don't even need to think very hard. "I might lie a little." 

"A little?" 

"Well, OK, to save your neck I'd probably lie a lot." 

"Yeah?" A flush of warmth has entered his voice. He looks across, smiling hopefully. It's pretty irresistible, I can tell you. He's not mad at me anymore, and I feel guilty. I've lost my moral high ground because I can't stand him to be mad at me. Because I need him to smile that smile, feed me with that warmth. 

"Well that makes me feel a whole lot better. Thank you." 

"I wouldn't bank on it, Starsky. I just said..." 

"I heard ya." 

He's relaxed into the seat now, the engine has stopped roaring and we've stopped bouncing. He's looked over at me a few times, happy as a sandboy. 

Damnit, Hutchinson, I'm thinking, holding on to the strap tighter than ever. Now who's lost control? 

**_ENDS_ **


End file.
